And I've been working like a dog
by Tani
Summary: Christian seranades, a mop. Yes thats right, a mop! But really it's Satine and Christian fluff all around please RR! Happy birthday Ewan!


And I've been working like a dog  
  
A/n: Hi people I have had this idea running around in my head like a greyhound on a race track for a while now, and only decided to write it today. I would like to thank dear Hiromi Tenshi/ Mandana for helping me with the first part. So I dedicate this story to her, a really dear friend of mine. Also to Ewan McGregor happy birthday! 03 31 04!  
  
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"Writer!" Growled Thomas the stage manager, with a tone that could only be contempt. He was a short, stout, middle-aged man, who appeared as though he liked food, a lot more than most people.  
  
Christian imagined that when this man laughed his stomach would jiggle like his aunts pudding at Christmastime.  
  
"Yes sir?" Christian responded, as he walked up to the round man rather reluctantly. Even though he particularly despised this man, his strict upbringing forced him to respond as politely as possible.  
  
"Sweep!" Thomas commanded sternly, and flung a mop into Christian's hands. "And you better be done when I get back." He growled over his shoulder.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ban hour later /b*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Yes sir, I'm finished." Christian replied curtly, he was going to be late for dinner with Satine.  
  
Thomas pulled out a white glove and wiped it on the floor. When he showed his fingertip to Christian it was covered with hair and dust particles.  
  
"You call that clean!" Thomas roared. "You know nothing about cleaning! My grandmother, no a two could clean better than you! Now I want you to sweep in a circular motion, and your not leaving here until this floor is spotless."  
  
Christian sighed and began to mop dejectedly as he watched the slow retreating figure of the stout fat man leave the room. He felt like an idiot.  
  
After a few moments he picked up the mop and examined it, it had red yarn, almost the same shade as Satine's hair.  
  
Suddenly it came to Christian. First in a light whistle that grew louder, next thing he new he was singing.  
  
"It's been a hard days night! And I've been working like a dog." He sung out his beautiful and dulcet voice ringing through the empty dance hall. Well almost empty that is.  
  
Satine had come down to the Moulin, out of curiosity as to what was keeping her darling poet. She stifled a giggle as she saw him, burst out into song and start dancing with his mop.  
  
"It's been a hard days night. I should be sleeping like a log!" Christian's voice grew louder as he dragged the mop across the floor with him.  
  
"But when I get home to you," He pulled the mop up and lovingly stroked the neck of it, a shear look of adulation on his face. Satine now had both hands clamped tightly to her mouth. "Must not let Christian hear me." She thought.  
  
"I find the things that you do will make me feel all right." Christian dipped the mop.  
  
"You know I work all day to get you money to buy you things." He sang abruptly pulling his inanimate dance partner up. "And it's worth it just to hear you say," he did a pencil turn, still clutching the mop tightly in his hand. "Your gonna give me everything."  
  
"So why on earth should I moan?" He was now twirling the mop high above his head. "Cause when I get you alone," He pulled the mop down cradling it lovingly in his arms the top pressed against his check. "You know I feel okay."  
  
"When I'm home, everything seems to be right." He kicked his legs out to the side as his shuffled across the floor, with the mop trailing in the middle. "When I'm home feeling you holding me tight, tight yeah!" Christian jumped into the air.  
  
"It's been a hard days night and I've been working like a dog it's been a hard days night I should be sleeping like a log. But when I get home to you I find the things that you do will make me feel all right. Oh!" He tossed his head, brown hair flying everywhere, and began strutting around the room like a fool.  
  
"So why on earth should I moan, 'cause when I get you alone, you know I feel okay." He paused for a moment, and then continued strutting.  
  
"When I'm home everything seems to be right. When I'm home, feeling you holding me tight, tight yeah." He ran ahead, turned back, and slid on the sides of his feet, skidding to a halt near the spot he started from.  
  
"Mmm it's been a hard days night and I've been working like a dog, it's been a hard days night I should be sleeping, like a log. But when I get home to you I find the things that you do," Satine could not quite put a finger on what his next step was but it appeared like he was attempting to do the can-can with the mop.  
  
"Will make me feel all right, you know I feel all right you know I feel all right!" He belted the line out and slid down onto his knees landing in front of Satine (not quite noticing her at first, as his eyes were closed), and holding the mop on a diagonal across his torso, (like a guitar).  
  
Satine, who had been clinging to the pillar that concealed her, for support, burst out into a hysterical fit of laughter. Christian's face turned beetroot red.  
  
"Oh you should have seen yourself!" Satine choked out as she collapsed to the floor with laughter!!  
  
"Well, I uh, I was." Christian stammered. "Pretending the mop was, you." This only made Satine burst out more.  
  
Christian smiled, and even laughed a little. He leaned in and kissed her tenderly.  
  
"Come on, lets get out of her, before Thomas gets back, so we can have some quality time." He winked playfully.  
  
"All right mop man!" Satine cooed. Christian groaned, he would never here the end of this.  
  
The two lovers then ran off laughing madly.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Disclaimer: We all know whom M Rouge belongs to. And of course I b did not/b write the song "A hard days night" it was written by those incredible geniuses "The Beatles", oh yes and this particular song was a John Lennon. He he sorry that's one of my favorite pastimes the "which Beatle wrote which song game."  
  
A/N: Well I hope you liked that. It was... weird but what can I say, there was a little bit of fluff not much bit a little. 


End file.
